One Good Reason
by Scarf Warriors
Summary: There's something strange going on... The space-time rift is throwing up more space-junk than normal, and the Temporal Division cannot cope. 12 and Nadrin arrive by accident to help, and end up getting drawn to the other side of the rift - in Cardiff.
1. Chapter 1

**Scarf Warriors is back with a bang! So, the collaborative fic with Flinch begins - make sure you read her side of the story. Two fics, two sides of the rift, two Doctors, it's going be amazing! Few things to notify you of - in Flinch's timeline (the most prevalent, I'd guess) this follows Closing Time. In my timeline this follows Return Trip. Which follows this, in Flinch's timeline. Confused? Don't be. **

**A few things you need know if you haven't read Return Trip: 1) Reading this could spoil the end of RT - the reason why they're on Erythrae, the fact that the moon keeps exploding and who Clement is explained there - it's not really important now. 2) Nadrin is the Twelth Doctor's companion - she's short, angry, viscous and curious. And prettier than she'd like. Also, she's been genetically constructed, and they failed slightly, her eyes are lime green - to do with their race. She's also seriously deficient in iron. 12 is tall, with shoulder length, wavy brown hair. He wears the same dark green cagoule and brown felt homburg, generally with maroon hiking trousers. He can be sarcastic, but mainly he's just eccentric, with a penchant for anything sweet, shiny or 'excellent looking'. He's a father figure to Nadrin. 3) I have frequent problems with teh interwebs. I tried to upload this at nine - but Mr Interwebs said NO, STOP IT. DON'T DO IT! So 9:36 it is.**

**Read on, enjoy, and lots of shiny reviews plz. Even if they are flames. Con-crit is particularly nice.**

* * *

**One Good Reason**

Nadrin gazed skywards as the moon reformed with a flash of green light. She'd seen the spectacle a few times before, but she still didn't understand why it flashed. Or why she couldn't hear the crash as the pieces flew together - or indeed why it exploded at all. How it reformed especially confused her. She'd asked the Doctor on numerous occasions to explain it to her, but he'd just go off on one about high gravity cores, the vacuum of space and optical illusions. In any case, she didn't really care.

The Doctor emerged from the TARDIS, having carried Clement to the medical bay to rest. He draped his cagoule over Nadrin's quivering shoulders, but she shrugged it off and turned away. She slipped past into the TARDIS, the thuds of her heavy boots a diminuendo in the corridors as she ran off to her room.

The Doctor sighed wistfully and tilted his head back towards the sky. They couldn't leave yet, the TARDIS hadn't finished refuelling. It was a stroke of luck that Nadrin had wanted to show Clement the Erythraean moons. The Lunar Plain lay on a rift through space and time, and the Doctor had utilised this before.

He watched a Drycha bound across the plain, green dust flying up around its large feet. They were rather odd creatures, like a sort of feathery kangaroo - but purple. Very tame and friendly though. The Doctor shuffled over to the animal, holding forth a sherbet lemon - they seemed to have a penchant for citric acid.

"Whoa there, matey," the Doctor whispered soothingly as the creature drew itself up nervously as they do when threatened. The Drycha took the sherbet lemon into its rubbery lips, but spat it out violently. The Doctor blinked in surprise, and fell back as the Drycha fell upon him violently.

"Calm down, matey! Wait, what's a Drycha doing on Erythrae?" That last thought reverberated through the Doctor's head as he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Captain, rift spike in the Lunar Plain. Coordinates 014-456." The captain addressed raised his head. He cast a lilac glow over his subordinate, a female of the species sat before a bank of computers. The glow turned green as he registered his understanding.

"Anything came through, Sarine?"

Sarine's head glowed baby blue as she concentrated on the small screen before her. "I'm trying to get an image from the cameras on the outpost."

The captain waited patiently as she changed the angle and focus of the cameras, scanning the green dust for signs of foreign life or material.

"I'm almost there, sir, I can just about see something. I need to focus the-" Sarine stopped suddenly as the computer flared up, small red lights dancing, vying for attention.

"There's an alien object drawing energy from the rift," she told the Captain, who turned pale orange in confusion. Sarine tapped further commands into the computer. "The database recognises the temporal resonance pattern. It appears to be some sort of time-craft, advanced way beyond our technology. The computers picked it up here before, but we couldn't get a proper fix on it." Sarine's glow changed from blue to orange. "It's in exactly the same place, to the nearest millimetre."

The Captain's orange glow darkened. "We've got to find it - get us transport to the Lunar Plains."

* * *

"Doctor, can we go now? You promised you'd show me the Hronian Quark display-" Nadrin stopped as she entered the console room. The Drycha stood by the console, gently nuzzling the controls with its wet nose, chewing something which looked suspiciously like wiring.

Nadrin frowned and took a penknife from her pocket. She stood silently and watched the Drycha from a safe distance. It completely ignored her. Circling slowly around the console, on the opposite side the alien creature she made her way towards the open doors of the TARDIS. Clutching at the TARDIS key in her pocket, she stepped out onto the pale green sand and slammed the door shut swiftly.

"Doctor, where are you hiding?" She bent her head against a sudden squall of wind, spitting out the sand which blew into her mouth. There was a sudden flash like lightning as the moon above her exploded. It was then that she noticed the Doctor's hat lying on the floor beside her. Her frown deepened as she bent at picked it up, spinning the felt object in her hands as she scanned the area. Tip-toeing timidly around the TARDIS, she came across the Doctor, slumped against the blue box, sand staining the dark brown waves of his hair. She fell down beside him with a small cry, and began to brush the sand off of him.

"Doctor... Doctor? Wake up. NOW!" She tutted in disappointment at his lack of activity. Putting the penknife back in her pocket she struck him sharply across the face. The Doctor spluttered and spat a paste of sand and saliva out over her jacket.

"That's foul," she said disgustedly, wiping the offending muck off onto his hat. "What happened?"

The Doctor stood up slowly, using Nadrin for assistance. She grumbled as he latched onto her shoulder and pulled himself upright. "Drycha, must have come through the rift somehow. Attacked me, no idea why. They're normally placid things."

Nadrin scowled. "Is that what the feathery thing eating the TARDIS console is?"

The Doctor groaned and strode back to the front of the ship. He was fumbling in his pocket for the TARDIS key when Nadrin pulled his jacket sleeve urgently.

"Doctor, look." He followed her arm to see a plume of dust rising in the distance.

"Some sort of vehicle, headed this way - at quite a velocity too."

"Should we get back in the TARDIS?" Nadrin asked, an edge of worry creeping into her tone.

The Doctor snorted. "Course not. We've got to be there to meet our welcome committee, haven't we?" He gave his diminutive companion an inane grin, and turned back to the rapidly approaching dust cloud. Nadrin sighed and coughed out the powder that had built up in her throat.

* * *

The vehicle arrived a few minutes later, caked in green dirt. The doors rose open slowly, causing dust to cascade off the machine and back onto the surface of the plain. The Doctor and Nadrin watched warily as two unknown aliens appeared. Nadrin frowned. They were very tall - almost twice her height - very slender too. They were both wearing some sort of cloak which went from the neckline to the floor. It was hard to tell where their waists began - if indeed they had waists. Or legs for that matter. Their heads were long and thin, like they'd been stretched, with no features other than deep set eyes. Their skin seemed to be a dull grey, except that it was emitting a dark orange glow, almost like an aura around them.

The Doctor coughed loudly, breaking the silence and causing Nadrin to jump. He suppressed a laugh at her nervousness, and spoke to the taller of the two. "Hullo, I'm the Doctor, this is Nadrin, this is the TARDIS and you are the locals. Yep?" The orange glow darkened further around the two faces. Nadrin stared as the one of the left spoke - how she knew it the one on the left she didn't know - they had no mouths after all.

"Welcome back to Erythrae, the Doctor and the TARDIS. You may dock your craft 'Nadrin' here as long as you will."

The Doctor snorted with laughter and held Nadrin back in case she attacked the speaker. If she hadn't been quite so incensed, Nadrin would have noticed the pitch of the speaker's voice - surprisingly low. The Doctor compared it to the rumble of thunder low over mountains - hopefully that wasn't ominous.

"Ah yes, ahem, my friend here is Nadrin, actually. The craft's called the TARDIS." The travellers stared as the auras faded to bright shocking pink. Nadrin looked at the Doctor questioningly, but he just raised his eyebrow and shrugged.

The rightmost alien nodded slowly. "We apologise, Nadrin."

Nadrin nodded curtly, and cocked her head to one side. "What's with the colour change? Can't you make your minds up"

The Doctor sighed. "Nadrin, don't be rude."

The alien on the right nodded again, this time to the Doctor. "It is of no concern, the Doctor. As for your request, Nadrin, our chromatism is to reflect our feelings."

Nadrin blinked. "What?"

"They change colour to reflect their mood. Remember that mood ring you found in Bognor Regis, the one you were convinced was alien technology? They're like that. Except their system actually works. Going green to them is like frowning for us. Or similar." The Doctor yelped as Nadrin elbowed him in the stomach. "What was that for!"

Nadrin scowled and hit him again. "You said we'd not mention that again."

"Well, it WAS rather funny." They turned back to the two aliens, the Doctor coughing in embarrassment. "Sorry about that. So, who are you two then?"

"Our species is known as 'Erythraean'. We are employees of the Temporal Division of the Scientific Assessment League. My title is Captain Mhror, my companion is Sarine, our technology expert."

Nadrin smiled. "So you're a sort of extraterrestrial Torchwood then?"

Sarine turned orange again. "Term 'Torchwood' does not register."

"Don't worry about her, she's easy to confuse," the Doctor whispered conspiratorially.

Mhror nodded again, and pointed towards the TARDIS. "The hypothesis states that you arrived here through the space-time rift."

The Doctor frowned and shook his head vehemently. "No, we used the time vortex."

"Equipment claims that there was rift activity in the area."

"Ah, that'd be the Drycha." The two aliens looked at one-another, then back to the Doctor, who tutted. "An alien from the planet Fror in the constellation of Kasterborous. Must have been what triggered your readings. It's in the TARDIS if you want it."

Mhror's aura faded from orange to green as he registered understanding. "We'll contain the alien. After which we must all return to the Temporal Division headquarters."

The Doctor grinned. "Take me to your... base... thing."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it - tell me if you did =D MEGAGLOMPS to those who review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, dreamingofsunshine, you're the only one reading it, so this is specially for you. It's a wee bit shorter, but if I'd put in the next bit the chapter would've been about 4000 words, and that's too much, so I'll save it for next time. Also, Flinch wants to do some bet thing with writing 30,000 words in a week, so I may not be able to update for a while. **

* * *

The lithe figure of Mhror opened the heavy door separating the travellers from the Temporal Division's headquarters. Nadrin was surprised by the construction of the door - the entirety of the building, in fact. Unlike most of the places they'd visited, the building wasn't metal and glass, it was a green stone - the material of the plains had been compressed to form bricks. A staircase, again comprising green bricks, led downwards, illuminated only by the light through the doorway. The Doctor waited for the two Erythraeans to lead the way, then stepped down a few steps. He turned back to Nadrin, who was yet to move inside.

"This race seems on par with humans in terms of development," the Doctor whispered into her ear, and she stepped gingerly into the darkness. The passage was now lit solely by the luminous glow emanating from their hosts.

"Our headquarters is underground to detract from the attention of others," Sarine said, her long cloak hiding her gait.

Captain Mhror nodded in agreement. "Ordinary Erythraeans do not know of other intelligent life. You are the first we have encountered with no visible hostility."

The Doctor grinned widely. "Hostile, us? We're about as hostile as a packet of biscuits."

The mauve light they were following faded, before flaring back orange. "Term 'biscuits' does not register."

Nadrin tutted. "You don't have biscuits? But biscuits are amazing! Especially the Plinis Snax we had a while ago. But Earth do the most amazing biscuits, particularly Custard Creams and Jaffa Cakes."

"What?" the Doctor cried, outraged. "Jaffa cakes aren't biscuits!"

"Yes they are, they're always with the biscuits in shops. AND in the TARDIS kitchen."

"So? I keep my sonic screwdriver with my underwear, doesn't make it a sock."

"Prove it, then."

A blue glow was added to the orange. "Ever seen a sock do that?"

The Doctor yelped in pain as Nadrin elbowed him. "I meant prove that Jaffa Cakes aren't biscuits, idiot."

The Doctor sniffed. "Fine, when we get back to the TARDIS, I'll show you that stale Jaffa Cakes go hard, and are therefore-"

The argument ended suddenly as they walked into the backs of Sarine and Mhror, who had stopped before another door. Both Erythraeans had phased out from the conversation when the Doctor started talking about socks, and were in the process of opening another heavy door that barred their path. Said door swung slowly open, and Nadrin shielded her eyes against the sudden bright light. The aliens glided serenely through, with the Doctor and Nadrin trotting in their wake.

"Are there no others working here?" Nadrin asked, surprised to see the cavernous room devoid of life other than themselves.

Mhror nodded slowly. "That is correct, Nadrin. Previously our number was 4 - 2 employees terminated during recent tasks."

Nadrin nodded and opened her mouth to continue, but the Doctor placed his hand over it. He looked around at the base - it was a huge room, with many levels, ladders and staircases leading up to them. The furniture was an oddball mish-mash of different styles - there was some Erythraean made technology - the computers mainly, but there was a few machines that were of different origin, a Melkene-made bioscanner was prominent. Mhror led them to a desk that looked suspiciously as if it had come from Ikea. He picked up a small pen shaped object and pressed one end. The other ended flashed in a blinding array of different colours, and after a few seconds the lights faded out. Mhror suddenly gave off a pale red aura, and dropped the device back onto the desk.

"I apologise for my demeanour. My superiors are demanding reports." The Doctor and Nadrin looked at one another, and the Doctor shrugged. Mhror glided off towards a side door - this one _was_ made of metal. It slid open sideways, and Mhror indicated that the Doctor and Nadrin should enter. They duly did so, and passed through the doorway. Nadrin blinked in surprise at the small, bare room, before spinning round as the door slid firmly shut behind them.

* * *

A computer burbled out a series of bleeps and flashes to Sarine, who had sat herself before it. She stared intently at the multicoloured flickering light, absorbing the data it conveyed. When the message was complete she rose and went over to the Captain.

"The computer predicts positive rift spike in 83 seconds, at a location 43.8 metres outside this building."

Mhror's aura became dark orange as he processed the information. "What is the positive-negative spike ration for the past 3 months?"

Sarine thought for a second before replying. "Positive - 237. Daily average - 3.8225806. Negative - 7. Daily average - 0.11290. Suggestion, anomalous period."

Mhror shook his head in disagreement. "Unknown and undefined event is occurring - the difference is too great for natural causes." The computer beeped again as it signalled the rift depositing more material.

"Positive rift spike - lower-range inanimate object detected," Sarine reported, decoding the information.

Mhror nodded in the deliberate manner as was common for his species. "We shall collect the object immediately."

* * *

"Pfft, it looks like we're being contained." The Doctor fished out a small torch from inside his jacket pocket and turned it on, dispelling some of the gloom on the cell.

"I thought you said we weren't hostile," Nadrin complained, feeling around for the walls and stability.

The Doctor grunted as she swung her arm into him, utterly disorientated. "I did, but they obviously didn't believe me. Or they think Jaffa Cakes are actually pretty hostile."

"AHA!"

"What?!"

"You said that we're 'as hostile as biscuits', and you were stating the possibility of them finding Jaffa Cakes hostile, and for them to think we're hostile, they'd have to compare us to Jaffa Cakes - hence, you contradicted yourself."

"...What?!"

"Never mind. Just accept that I win, as usual."

The Doctor wisely decided against continuing the argument and turned off the torch, throwing the room back into darkness.

"Oi!" Nadrin shouted, trying to grab the torch from his hands. He resisted, dropping it back into his pocket.

"Why do we need it? We'll be out of here in a few ticks."

"We will?"

"Yep." A familiar blue light and humming noise indicated the Doctor's use of the sonic screwdriver. The door slid open, and Nadrin fell through, having been leaning against it. The Doctor stepped over her and strode over to Mhror's desk, seating himself on the chair beside it.

Nadrin grumpily hauled herself to her feet and perched on the desk in front of him. "What happens now?"

The Doctor leant back and closed his eyes. "We wait, silly."

* * *

A light zephyr blew the green dust across the plain's surface, getting caught against the object which had appeared. It was already half buried, the shifting sands covering it. Sarine bent and picked up the object, translucent hands protected by thick gloves. She tapped it to remove the sand and eyed it suspiciously.

"Object of unknown organic composition. It's quite long and thin, geometrically rectangular. Grooved," Sarine reported to Mhror, who took hold of the object from his subordinate.

"Item must be catalogued - we can ask Nadrin if she recognises it."

Sarine nodded and produced a clear bag to contain the object. With a slow nod at one another they made their way back into the Temporal Division headquarters.

* * *

"Ah, welcome back!" The Doctor jumped from his seat, surprising Nadrin who fell off the desk. The Erythraeans regarded the two suspiciously, Mhror being a deep orange colour and Sarine a pale shade of grey.

"How did you evade containment?" Mhror asked, producing what seemed to be a cigarette lighter.

"Through the door. Have sonic screwdriver, will open doors," the Doctor said, waving the aforementioned tool before his own face. "Besides, we don't need containing, we're about as dangerous as that dust out there." He paused. "Actually, I have no idea how dangerous that dust is - not very, hopefully."

"Dust can cause minor respiratory problems if inhaled in excess," Sarine responded automatically, before falling silent when Mhror turned to stare at her. He remained silent for a moment, before replacing the lighter-like device back wherever he had produced it from.

"We shall take your word as truth - for the meanwhile. We would request assistance from the more knowledgeable one." The Doctor grinned and leapt to attention, but stopped suddenly as Sarine presented the recently discovered object to Nadrin.

She giggled. "Why, thank you for your confidence in me. How may my services be of use to you?"

Mhror indicated the object with his finger. "State composition and origin of that box."

She giggled again, before shrugging. "Well, it's made of wood. Could be from anywhere, Earth perhaps."

Crestfallen, the Doctor snatched it from her grasp. His dismay turned to derision. "It's not of Earth origin, O Knowledgeable One – the wood's bluish. It's got high copper II content." He passed it back to Sarine and sniffed.

She blinked and took the offered item. "Hypothesis states that Nadrin is the more intelligent."

The Doctor scoffed. "Pah, she can't tell the difference between a Phalarope and a Blenny." He winced, predicting the oncoming smack. Straightening himself, he bowed in Sarine's direction. "Why does the hypothesis state such a thing?"

Mhror answered for her. "She contains the colour of knowledge."

"You what?" Nadrin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You contain the colour of knowledge within your iris."

The Doctor nodded in realisation. "Green signalling understanding?" Mhror nodded, and Nadrin giggled again.

"Well, that's rubbish then. What does the Doctor's iris say?"

Sarine stared intently into the Doctor's face for a short while. "Terror."

The Doctor snorted indignantly at Nadrin's crow of laughter.

* * *

**Review, or I'll cry, and never write ever ever ever ever again. Pwetty plz? **


	3. Chapter 3

**;_; sums my mood up right now.**

* * *

The Doctor sat grumpily at Mhror's desk, listening to the Captain translating the data on the info-sticks. Sarine was in the archives hunting down more relevant info-sticks, while Nadrin, inexplicably, was sat cross-legged beneath the table, plotting the data on a graph.

Mhror set the final stick down on the table, and looked towards the returning Sarine, who should her head to indicate the supply of information was exhausted.

"Why can't you store this all on a computer?" Nadrin's voice floated up from beneath the desk.

The Doctor snorted. "They do, but I can't understand their communication methods - it's a series of coloured lights." Nadrin crawled out and stood up, depositing the completed graph on the table.

The Doctor shook his head in disappointment. "There's not enough data - why don't you keep all your data here?"

Mhror turned maroon - showing his disappointment also. "The data was deemed unnecessary. It has been taken to the City for storage."

"You'll have to take us there then," the Doctor demanded and slammed his fist against the graph.

Nadrin jumped at the sudden bang, but regained her composure quickly. "Why are we doing this, what's actually happening?"

The Doctor sighed. "I don't know, Nadrin. But both positive and negative rift spikes should be roughly equal - there's a huge difference here. Something's happening to the Rift, but I don't know what." He accentuated the last three words by crashing his fist against the table in frustration.

"Transport to the City has been prepared." Nadrin turned to Sarine, who nodded and pointed towards a door on the opposite side of the room.

"There is one issue, Doctor," Mhror said, restraining Nadrin from moving as he spoke. "The Erythraean public are unaware of extraerythraean life - you must not be seen. We have two options - one, you remain underground in the vehicle or we use a visual perception confribulator."

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "You've not tried keeping Nadrin inside a room - it's painful. We'll have to use the visual perception... thing. What is confribulator supposed to mean?"

Sarine turned yellow in embarrassment. "I made it up - it is alien technology that arrived through the rift - it causes the viewer to ignore you in general - if the viewer does notice you, it sees whatever the technology decrees you see - we have set it to show Preidoxhylorians."

Nadrin coughed in surprise. "Pridoxy- what now?"

"Preidoxhylorians," Sarine continued, unfazed. "A species native to this planet with minor intelligence. They need steady routine and to be constantly busy - else they view themselves as pointless, and go mad. They work as servants to the Erythraean race."

The Doctor frowned. "You're not trying to justify slavery, are you?"

Sarine shook her head slowly. "We reward them well with nutrition. It's a struggle for us also – we cannot allow them to be idle, for their own sakes. When they lose their sentience they become very aggressive and can kill or injure both themselves and Erythraeans." The Doctor nodded slowly, unconvinced.

Mhror released Nadrin, and she ran over to the door Sarine had indicated a while back. "Come on Doctor, we've got to get moving sometime." He smiled at her eagerness and followed the Erythraeans through the doorway.

* * *

The short passageway beyond led out into the open, where a squat, angular vehicle stood. The doors slid upwards, and the four climbed up over the caterpillar tracks to enter the machine.

The Doctor grunted as he sat down. "Could at least have fixed a ladder to this thing," he muttered to Nadrin.

Mhror turned to face him from the operator's seat. "I apologise for our inefficiency. Credit is low, and our vehicles receive harsh treatment." He turned back to the front, and started the engine, which roared into life. The vehicle shook terribly, so much so that Nadrin thought her eyes would rattle out of her sockets. The machine lurched forwards, setting up a cloud of dust so thick that it completely obscured the view from the already restricted windows - unsurprisingly, Mhror put the vehicle on autopilot. She tutted in disappointment and curled up in the chair to try and get some sleep.

* * *

By the time Nadrin awoke, they were clear of the lunar plain. She yawned and stretched her tiny frame, sitting upright and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked ahead to see a city rising majestically from the hard green ground. All the buildings were off 10 storeys or less, and constructed of the same green material. It looked like a giant, intricate sandcastle had been dropped there by a giant child. She giggled at the thought, and turned to where the Doctor was sat. She screamed shrilly at the wrinkled brown figure beside her. The mouth of the beast opened in a yawn, revealing a row of sharp teeth. Short, fluffy hair covered the top of its head, up to the high forehead over the deep-set eye sockets. It was wearing what seemed to be some sort of plastic boiler suit. It sat up also, and stretched.

"Do you have to scream like that Nadrin? Does my ears a nasty," it said grumpily.

Nadrin choked down another scream. "Doctor? What the hell's happened to you?"

"Nothing," he replied. "It just looks like it has." He held up his left wrist, where a heavy-looking black device was strapped. She looked down at her own wrist to see a similar looking box strapped to her own wrist – luckily, it was not as heavy as it looked.

"Is that the visual perceptive thingybob?" she asked, looking down at herself, expecting to see the ugly form of a Preidoxhylorian - yet she only saw her skirt and jumper. "Do I look like that too?"

The Doctor - or rather the Preidoxhylorian - nodded. "Well, you do to me. A marked improvement, if I may say so." She growled and dug her uncut nails into his free hand.

The Doctor yelped in pain. "Why don't you cut those bloody things?!"

Nadrin sniffed at him disdainfully. "They're very good for hurting you with."

He sighed mournfully at her, grimacing slightly as she removed her nails from his flesh. "Typical, I show you only the most beautiful parts of the universe, in return you plot against me."

She shoved him playfully. "Shut up you." Grinning, she pulled out her camera and took a quick photo of the Doctor's Preidoxhylorian form. "Humph, that's rubbish."

The Doctor frowned. "What is, is it out of memory?"

Nadrin shook her head. "No, it looks like you. Not like a pridoxthing."

"Charming," the Doctor muttered as he took the camera from her. "Well, the camera doesn't have a brain, so the VPC has no effect on it."

"But why does my picture look like you normally do when you clearly look like some ugly alien thing?"

"...I just told you that."

"But... what? I don't get it."

"Don't worry about it, it's not like-" The Doctor's reply was cut off suddenly as they pitched forwards in their seats when the vehicle stopped violently. Mhror lifted his head from where he'd been sleeping and turned to them.

"This is our destination. More data is available here. I shall ask two Preidoxhylorians to direct you to the archives. They will translate the data also. We are required at a meeting of the Scientific Assessment League." The Doctor nodded curtly and climbed out of the machine, catching Nadrin as she stumbled out. The two Preidoxhylorians arrived as expected. They bowed to the travellers in unison.

"We thank you for allowing us to be of assistance while Captain Mhror and Sarine are indisposed," the one on the left said, its voice a surprisingly high warble.

Nadrin smiled at them. "Hello, I'm Nadrin, what are your names?"

The two weird looking aliens blinked in surprise and wrinkled what little there was of their noses. "This information is surely irrelevant?"

Nadrin frowned. "Of course not... How else are we supposed to address you?"

The one on the right replied this time. "Names are not necessary - we respond to orders."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "You must have names though?"

The alien hesitated, but its companion nodded. "I am Gi, this is Bu. We shall now proceed to the archives." The turned and walked stiffly towards through a door made of what seemed to be wood - yet was the same shade of green as the walls. The Preidoxhylorians led the way into a brightly lit foyer - unsurprising, the high ceiling was festooned with a multitude of lights, all of which emanated a purple luminescence. Nadrin took a quick photograph before running after the Doctor with his strange alien guides.

* * *

**There. Well done for reading it. Now, perhaps you'd be polite, and review for me?**


	4. Chapter 4

**~Much apologies about short chapter lengths, I'm not able to write as I'd like due to Flinch's chapter plan, but I hope you're still enjoying the chapters - not that I'd know if you are. *scowls***

Oh, and it's lovely to see you back again, ChellusAuglerie =D

* * *

The archives were situated in a huge room, about twice the size of an average cathedral, and filled with a bewildering array of shelving units and cupboards. Luckily, the section for the Temporal Division was only small, 3 shelves in total. Gi had reliably informed the Doctor that there were 3965 divisions of the Scientific Assessment League - all of which had their own archiving space. The Doctor and Nadrin watched from the floor - carpeted with some sort of synthetic fibre - as the two Preidoxhylorians collected the memory sticks containing rift data for the past 4 years. Bu and Gi descended the ladders, both grasping boxes full of memory sticks.

Panting slightly, Bu handed his box to the Doctor. "Task completed. Further instructions?"

The Doctor sank to his knees under the weight of the box. "Err, could you carry these boxes to the vehicle please?" Bu nodded and took the box back. The two aliens made their way from the archives, the Doctor and Nadrin following in their wake. Nadrin took a quick photo of the room, before scuttling after the Doctor.

* * *

Captain Mhror and Sarine were in the vehicle waiting when the four arrived. Mhror started the engine, which roared into life again. A panel on the back shifted open, and the Preidoxhylorians deposited the boxes there before climbing in themselves. The Doctor clambered up into the seat behind Mhror, but only after helping Nadrin, who was trying in vain to scramble over the caterpillar tracks of the machine. The side panel which comprised the door slid smoothly shut after them. She curled up on her seat as she had done before and slipped into a deep sleep. How she managed to do that, the Doctor never quite knew - none of his other companions were so adept at sleeping. Nadrin could almost certainly nod off on a washing line during a particularly vicious death metal concert; she was totally unfazed by the juddering ride or the deafening roar of the engine. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and stuffed the thumbs of a pair of gloves into each ear.

* * *

Nadrin awoke in complete silence and stillness. She sat upright, and found herself back in the Temporal Division's headquarters - someone must have carried her through. Whatever she'd been laid on was quite soft, rather cramped though - she had to curl right up to fit in it snugly. The room was dimly lit from somewhere, and looked like some sort of small utility room. She leant forwards, and to her surprise found herself a few feet off the floor. She frowned and tutted in indecision.

"Err... Could someone help me out of this please?"

Sarine appeared in the doorway, giving off a luminescent green glow. "Why are you in the laundry basket?"

"...I think I'm going to kill that Doctor."

Sarine shook her head. "Termination plans must wait until temporal anomaly is identified."

"...The fuck?!"

"Term 'fuck' does not register. Intonation suggests confusion. I request that you restrain from killing the Doctor until we have identified what is happening with the rift."

"...Okay."

Sarine nodded gratefully, and gently lifted her from the laundry basket and set her down on the floor. Nadrin straightened her clothes out and went off to find the Doctor.

* * *

Said Doctor was to be found in the main centre of the base, carefully plotting more figures onto the graph, with the aid of Bu. Mhror was busy at a computer, while Gi stood idly alongside him, awaiting instructions. Nadrin sidled up the Doctor and stepped purposefully on his foot.

"I was going to do you a nasty, but Sarine said I have to wait until you've solved their problem."

The Doctor snorted. "Well, that's gratitude for you. Anyway, Bu put you in the basket. Didn't you, Bu?"

"Confirmed - order dispatched by the Doctor 13 minutes and 31 seconds previously."

"Oi! What happened to confidentiality?"

"Term 'confidentiality' does not register." The Doctor sighed, mainly in relief at Nadrin releasing his foot. He continued to plot the data, so Nadrin climbed up onto the desk he was using and sat beside the half finished graph.

"What do you think's happening?" she asked, peering curiously at the mass of points and the neat curve joining them - Bu was clearly better with a pencil than she was.

"I have an idea, but I'll tell you when I'm sure," the Doctor replied, concentrating more on the calculus equations before her question. She sniffed at him, but he ignored her.

Mhror glided over, followed closely by Gi. "Suitable negative rift spike predicted in 87 minutes - coordinates 014-398."

Sarine nodded at him, while the Doctor and Nadrin looked at each other, confused. Sarine nodded again and turned a bright pink, showing excitement. The Doctor coughed loudly. "Suitable for what, may I ask?"

"For rift travel experimentation."

"And who exactly do you experiment on?"

"The Preidoxhylorians offer their services."

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "Oh they do, do they?"

Mhror nodded. "We have a reserve of 432,663 Preidoxhylorian volunteers."

The Doctor laughed mirthlessly. "What's that of the total population as a percentage?"

"0.00463% to three significant figures."

"...Oh." The Doctor fell silent. Nadrin giggled at him as he smiled sheepishly.

Mhror continued. "The two Preidoxhylorians in our company are on the volunteer list. One will be positioned on the coordinates of the predicted negative rift spike."

Nadrin pulled gently on the sleeve of the Erythraean's garb. "Do you know where they go to?"

Sarine shook her head and answered for her superior. "We are uncertain, but the hypothesis states that there are temporal currents within the rift. This would mean that an estimated 69.05% of Preidoxhylorians are transported to the same place."

"And you have no idea where this place is?" Nadrin pressed.

"Confirmed. We hope to send a message via the Preidoxhylorians to begin communications with other worlds to research their experiences with the Rift. The hypothesis states that electronic communication will fail due to Rift Energy's effect on magnopolar memory storages devices, hence we use Preidoxhylorians for verbal communication."

Nadrin nodded and smiled patronisingly. "Why not just write a letter?"

Mhror went orange in confusion. "Terms 'letter' and 'write' do not register."

The Doctor frowned. "No wonder your system is so disorganised and inefficient. Writing is a form of communication involving symbols on paper, the symbols representing sounds. The full lexicon of symbols is called an alphabet." He pulled a scrap of paper out of a wallet and showed it to the Erythraeans, whence upon the word 'Doctor' appeared on the slightly crumpled page. "Duh - oh - cuh - tuh - oh - rrr. This is the Roman alphabet, used on the planet Earth and its colony planets."

Mhror nodded appreciatively, turning pink in excitement. "This is an efficient system, I shall suggest it the High Commissioner for trial."

Nadrin grinned at him, and the Doctor nodded curtly. "Well, glad I've had some effect on your species development. Also, don't use that alphabet, make your own - preserve some of your own culture - the humanisation of the universe doesn't occur for another 30,000 years."

Sarine nodded. "It will be done. However, we have only 25 minutes until the rift spike - we need to assume position."

The Doctor looked crestfallen. "Does this mean we need to get back in that bloody machine again?"

Sarine glowed orange. "You were injured in the transportation equipment?"

The Doctor blinked. "What? No, I just don't like it."

The orange glow deepened in hue. "Define origin of blood."

The Doctor chuckled. "No, it's an expression. I was expressing dismay."

Sarine nodded. "Dismay noted. And dismissed."

Nadrin giggled at the Doctor's indignant expression.

* * *

The two travellers sat on the dusty surface of the lunar plain as the two Erythraeans stood motionless. Gi sat alone on the exact point where the rift spike was expected - he still had 13 minutes to wait.

Nadrin coughed out some green dirt and lay flat on her back. "Doctor, do you have a piece of paper I can use?" The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of what looked like papyrus and chucked it in her general direction. She caught it, and produced a fountain pen from her jacket pocket. She rolled onto her front and began to scribble a sketch of the TARDIS. In her neat script she wrote a few characters beneath the picture and folded it in two.

"Can I give this to Gi?" she asked, showing the Doctor the paper.

"No, of course not! We have no idea what's at the other end of the Rift." He pulled his hat over his eyes, ending the conversation.

Nadrin gave a derisory snort and lay back again. "How long have we got?"

Mhror turned to her. "4 minutes and 37 seconds. We shall begin final instructions in 2 minutes and 19 seconds." Nadrin made patterns in the dust as she waited for the 2 minutes to expire, humming a lively tune to herself.

The time seemed to drag on for an eternity, but eventually Sarine signalled the time was up. They made their way over to the Preidoxhylorian, who stood up and bowed slightly.

"Preidoxhylorian, should you encounter other lifeforms, pass on the messages and information you have already been given." Gi nodded, and swallowed nervously. The Doctor shook his hand warmly, and Nadrin followed suit. Gi looked down at his hand in confusion, and Nadrin winked conspiratorially at him. Gi grasped the paper tightly and watched as the four stepped away. A crackle of rift energy caused him to look up at the bright white light which swallowed him. Then all was lost to brightness.

"I hope you know what you're doing," the Doctor muttered, more to himself than to the Erythraeans. "I assume we're going back to the headquarters now."

"Confirmed," replied Mhror, who turned and made his way back to the vehicle. The Doctor moaned and brushed the dust off his cagoule, noticing Nadrin's empty hands. "I sincerely hope you didn't give that to Gi..."

Nadrin bit her lip and smiled sweetly at him.

* * *

**Reviewers get hugs and cookies. SO PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Many thankoos for your continuing support, I'm looking forwards to updating, but, you know, my inbox needs a bit more feeding - it's looking malnourished. So review, it's for a good cause! I'm even giving you a slightly longer chapter, with a few, well, mad moments.**

* * *

The light was fading by the time they made it back to the base. The pieces of the green moon rose up above the plain, before reforming with a bright flash. The other two moons were less high in the sky, but still cast a multicoloured glow over the ground. Nadrin leapt from the transportation vehicle, landing heavily on her feet. She winced in pain as she twisted her ankle slightly, but dashed inside regardless, away from the irritation and fury of the Doctor - he wasn't best pleased with her, but he'd get over it. She was always getting into mischief, and she knew that the Doctor liked it really. He needed her around to keep him from going mad.

She was stopped by the heavy stone door - it was far too bulky for her to shift, but Mhror seemed able to move it as if it were made of nothing more substantial than polystyrene. She smiled happily at Mhror and skipped inside, up to the desk they'd been working at previously, expecting the others to join her. To her disappointment, the other three stood at a bank of computers on the other side of the room, without a single word to her. She huffed and slipped underneath the desk for a nap.

* * *

Sarine watched as the computer screen showed what seemed to be a simplified diagram of the rift. Gi was displayed as a pulsating red dot as he was carried on the temporal currents through the rift. The dot suddenly blinked out of existence.

"The Preidoxhylorian has passed through, we have lost all contact," Sarine explained, logging the data onto an available memory stick.

The Doctor removed his hat and scratched his head. "What's the point in sending them then?"

Mhror turned his head slowly towards him. "The purpose is to spread messages about Erythrae and the Eryrthraean race, and to attempt to gather information about the Rift."

The Doctor sniffed. "I see. Have you had any replies?"

Mhror turned slightly yellow in embarrassment. "Negative."

The Doctor smiled patronisingly. "Well, your message isn't getting through then. I'd imagine the temporal currents alter the brainwaves of some organisms - that Drycha for example. On their own planet, Fror, they're the softest, sweetest, gentlest things in the universe. Having come through the rift they're pretty violent, actually. So what's to say your Preidoxhylorians aren't losing their sentience?"

Mhror and Sarine remained silent, but both shook their heads. The Doctor smiled triumphantly and wended his way over to the desk holding his graph.

Nadrin was jerked rudely into wakefulness as the Doctor prodded her still form with his foot repeatedly. "Oi, sleepyhead, we've got work to do." Grumbling, she pulled herself out from under the desk and adjusted her jacket and skirt to hang more comfortably. Wiping her eyes, she turned to the graph laid out on the desk, bestrewn with the Doctor's pencils and rulers.

"What's wrong with using a single pencil," she asked flicking one such item away to read an obscured part of the graph.

The Doctor gaped in mock surprise. "One can never have too many pencils - the more I have, the more likely I'll be able to find one in an emergency." To prove his point he plucked a pencil from each pocket in turn and threw them down onto the desk's polished surface, already holding a few dozen of the objects. Nadrin sighed, but swiped one to keep in her pocket - for 'emergencies'.

The Doctor cleared his throat and began to think out loud, as he often did. "Ahem... Well, the Rift is not open, as there are few negative rift spikes - it's not closed, as there are positive rift spikes - lots of them. So that would suggest that it's half way in between - but from a different point in the Rift primarily."

Nadrin's brow creased into a frown above her vivid eyes. "What makes you say that?"

"As the Rift is manually closed from one end it forces debris in the rift to accelerate and due to the temporal current through the rift at these coordinates, the level of temporal deposition increases dramatically. It's a bit like, err.." The Doctor tutted as he tried to think of a suitable analogy.

Nadrin nodded. "Like putting your finger over a hosepipe."

The Doctor blinked in surprise. "That'll do nicely. Nice to see my lessons on temporal physics have taught you something."

Nadrin smiled sweetly at him, before kicking him hard on the ankle. The Doctor yelped in pain and hopped on one foot. "I wasn't being sarcastic!"

Nadrin giggled sheepishly. "Oh, err, sorry 'bout that then."

The Doctor glared at her and turned back to his graph. He pointed out when the shape of the graph began to slope upwards. "This is where the Rift began to close - it's being closed slowly, either due to poor technological advancement, or because the perpetrator is doing it for naughty purposement. Either way, it's bad news."

Sarine turned grey, expressing worry. "The second point is obvious. The first is less easy to understand."

"If low level technology is used to exploit and manipulative temporal fissures, the closure is in general only temporary. When the pressure builds up it could blast itself open - that's bad news mainly for where the closure is occurring, because when it does open the whole of reality will be sucked towards it - whole planets, solar systems, galaxies. They'll converge on one area destroying it and much of the universe with it. Somehow, we've got to get word to whoever's doing this."

Mhror nodded, green with understanding. "How can this be achieved?"

The Doctor made as if to speak, but Nadrin interrupted. "Use my idea, send a letter!"

The Doctor shook his head despairingly. "And if the race on the other side can't read your letter?"

Nadrin opened her mouth to argue, but seeing that she had lost closed it again. She scowled at the Doctor, who smiled merrily back. "We need to develop some technology, something that allows an organism to retain their consciousness through the battering of the temporal currents."

Sarine looked up hopefully. "Do you have such technology, Doctor, or must you develop it?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I've never had need for such a thing. But, I believe that total protection is not needed, just something to channel the energy away from us, store it, transmit it, something along those lines. I do have the technology to measure the frequency of the time winds and what sort of transmitter or receiver would be necessary."

Sarine produced a memory stick from her pocket and absorbed the information. The Doctor eyed her questioningly. "What are you doing?"

She slipping the stick back into her pocket. "Measuring the quantity of Preidoxhylorian volunteers. We shall step up the sending program while the technology is developed."

"That won't actually do anything, you know - if anything you'll just end up causing panic at the other end."

"Panic increases likelihood of ceasing activities."

Nadrin butted in before the Doctor could issue his retort. "I agree with Sarine - I know there's not much hope of it working, but not much hope is better than no hope at all."

The Doctor frowned. "Well, I can't argue with that logic, but-"

"It is agreed then. I shall send for 30 Preidoxhylorian volunteers."

"30?!" the Doctor exclaimed. "That's rather a lot!"

Mhror shook his head. "Calculations show each rift spike has the ability to carry 5 Preidoxhylorians simultaneously. We have 6 predictions in the next 72 hours."

The Doctor's frown deepened. "So I have 2 days to develop brand-new technology, marvellous."

Nadrin blinked in confusion. "3 days."

The Doctor shook his head at her. "The days are longer on Erythrae."

"Oh. Well, still, it's longer than it sounds. To me, at least." Nadrin smiled and hit him playfully. "We'd better get on with it then!"

"Err, we? Since when has your knowledge of temporal physics, reality fragmentation and space-time anomalies been sufficient for you to channel temporal energy?"

"Pish, I have hidden depths."

"Pish yourself. The only hidden depth you have is the one you put food in." As if to prove his point, Nadrin produced a purloined bag of his jelly babies and swallowed one whole.

* * *

To the Doctor's dismay, getting to the TARDIS meant another ride in the Erythraean's transportation vehicle - at least once they'd moved it back to the Temporal Division's headquarters they wouldn't need it again. He sat miserably in the passenger seat as Mhror sent the vehicle thundering out onto the plain's dusty surface. Sarine and Nadrin had wisely elected to stay behind and prepare the materials for analysing the temporal winds. The Doctor tutted in annoyance, remembering the mischievous grin on Nadrin's face when she decided against going. The annoyance turned to affection when he recalled the times he had shared with his little companion. She was fierce, violent and - though he dare not say it in front of her - a bit thick, she was a fun person to be with, didn't ask unnecessary questions and accepted what he said as fact - always handy. Yes, she argued, but she just needed to feel involved, to feel like she was making a contribution. Occasionally, she even contributed something worthwhile. The Doctor was jerked out of his reverie with a bump - quite literally. The machine shuddered to a violent halt as Mhror applied the brakes, stopping just beside the TARDIS. Wordlessly, the two removed themselves from the vehicle and climbed down to the TARDIS. The Doctor watched uselessly as Mhror operated the controls to a sort of crane mechanism, which gently tipped the craft onto its side and pulled it into the vehicle's hold with tantalising slowness. The Doctor sighed with relief as the side panel slid back into place.

"Our task is complete. We must now return to the headquarters," Mhror said, climbing back into the driver's seat. The Doctor hit his head against the vehicle's side panel miserably.

* * *

Nadrin was covered by wires from head to toe, and daren't move in case she tangle herself up in the multicoloured mess. Sarine didn't seem to notice, she kept loading more equipment onto the hapless girl. Nadrin gasped in shock as Sarine dropped a large metal dish onto her foot. Wincing with pain, she picked the dish up, but only succeeded in catching the wires she'd draped over her shoulder with those wrapped round her waste. Stuck half bent over, she struggled furiously with the leads but managed only to trip over and fall flat on the floor. Growling, she made as if to attack the wires with her teeth, but stopped when she felt a restraining hand on her shoulder. She rolled over to find herself staring into the Doctor's grey eyes.

He chuckled. "I see Sarine's got you tied up here, I suppose I'll have to check up on you later." He walked off, leaving Nadrin still trapped.

"Oi! You could at least help me, you piece of panda-crap!"

The Doctor stopped. "Sorry, what? Where do you learn these things?"

"Internet."

The Doctor frowned. "What sort of sites have you been looking at?"

"Oh, all sorts. Music ones, and games ones, and videos, and these weird ones where there are these men, and-"

"I _really_ don't like where this is going," the Doctor said and bent down to finally release her. He pulled the wires off and coiled them around his arm.

"Equipment collection complete," Sarine said, totally oblivious to what had been happening. She turned orange upon seeing the Doctor. "What happened to Nadrin?"

The Doctor grinned. "You overloaded her slightly." Sarine nodded and picked up the metal dish that she'd dropped onto Nadrin. They made their way through to the main workstation, where Mhror was drawing a diagram on the back of the graph paper.

Nadrin wandered over to look at his handiwork. "Err, what's that supposed to be?"

Mhror nodded to her. "This is a diagram of equipment designed to measure the frequency of temporal radiation from the Rift."

The Doctor sidled over and nodded approvingly. "That'll do nicely, Mhror. When's the next rift spike due?"

Mhror turned to Sarine for an answer. She checked a device on her wrist. "About 13 minutes."

* * *

**A rubbish cliffie, but that's Flinch's fault D=**


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter is short and low on quality - I hit a huuuuuuge writer's block D=**

* * *

The Doctor sat on the green dirt of the Lunar Plain, thankful that the predicted rift spike wasn't far away enough to warrant the use of the Erythraeans' infernal vehicle. He stared sadly at the five Preidoxhylorians gathered in a tight circle, one holding the receiver dish, waiting to collect data about the temporal winds. The dish was attached to a very long lead, consisting of smaller leads joined together, so that they could collect some data before the dish was lost to the rift.

Nadrin sat idly on the ground beside him, banned from going anywhere near the Preidoxhylorians to prevent any more written messages passing across the Rift. The two Erythraeans stood together, both holding hand-held computers, ready to log and interpret the data.

"1 minute remains," Sarine muttered to Mhror, who nodded and turned to stare at the five waiting Preidoxhylorians. Rift energy crackled overhead, and they looked up to stare at the white light. The Doctor jumped into action, snatching a PDA-like item off Sarine, and watching as it measured the wavelength, frequency and wavenumber of the temporal radiation. He grinned maniacally and unplugged the wire as the receiver was sucked into the rift, along with the five Preidoxhylorians. Nadrin blinked as coloured lights danced across her vision due to the bright flash, and shook her head to try and rid herself of the illusions.

"I've got enough data to work with," the Doctor called to her, already striding back to the headquarters. Sarine and Mhror stared after him, leaving Nadrin to run and catch up.

* * *

Still carrying the PDA, the Doctor charged into the headquarters - the doors had helpfully been left open this time. It wasn't like there was any danger of trespassers - ordinary Erythraeans didn't even know of its existence, and if there did, they couldn't find it. He hastily plugged the equipment into the computer, and let it download the data. He sighed in frustration as the information was conveyed in the traditional Erythraean manner - a series of coloured flashes.

"Mhror, hurry up and decipher this for me," he called to the Erythraean, who was walking as quickly as his unbalanced figure would allow. He sauntered over, and did as he was asked. The Doctor quickly jotted down the figures onto a scrap of paper with one of his ubiquitous pencils.

"Nadrin, could you... Where _is_ Nadrin?" The Doctor stood up and spun round, trying to catch sight of his diminutive companion. Nadrin always seemed to have a favourite spot in any place she went, somewhere hidden and familiar - under the desk. The Doctor strode over and peeked under the desk, and unsurprisingly Nadrin was there, curled up, fast asleep.

"Typical," the Doctor muttered, and placed the paper bearing the figures on top of the desk.

"Perhaps we can be of assistance," Sarine asked, placing a box of memory-sticks onto the desk.

The Doctor nodded towards the box. "What're they?"

"Information of materials and their properties."

The Doctor nodded gratefully, but then frowned. "Do I have to go through each one individually? Why can't you have some sort of database system?"

"You'll have to use the computer to perform the task in that manner," Mhror said, removing one memory stick from the box and accessing its data.

The Doctor sighed. "Well that's what I'll do - what happened to Bu, that Preidoxhylorian?"

"He is currently clearing the entrance of sand."

"Pah, utterly pointless. Get him here, I'm sure he knows how to use the computer."

Mhror nodded. "Confirmed and agreed."

Nadrin started into wakefulness as the Doctor kicked her. She sat up suddenly and smacked her head on the bottom of the table.

"FUCK THAT," she yelled in pain, and scrambled out.

The Doctor ignored her fury. "Do you know where we can get a load of wood?"

"What?! No!"

"Pfft, utterly useless. We need to form some carbon dioxide - that being the substance with a resonance pattern closest to that of the temporal radiation."

Nadrin raised an eyebrow. "But carbon dioxide's a gas..."

The Doctor gaped in mock horror. "Is it?! Blimey! We'll just have to solidify it!"

"How?" Nadrin demanded, angered by the Doctor's mocking.

"High pressure, low temperature. We just need to build some sort of device that can do such a thing - about 200K and 10000kPa should do nicely. And you know what that means, Nadrin..."

She grinned widely, anger forgotten. "We get to go to the lab?"

The Doctor joined her in grinning. "We do indeed."

* * *

Nadrin loved the TARDIS's laboratory, it fascinated her. The equipment was stacked against every wall: burettes; power tools; microscopes; magnotrometers - it was her favourite part of the TARDIS. She skipped in and stood by the Doctor's workstation, pushing a pair of lab specs up on the bridge of her nose.

The Doctor frowned. "You won't actually need those."

She grinned regardless. "I like them, though."

The Doctor chuckled. "Well, fair enough. Now then, could I have the jigsaw, two plates of titanium and the bottle of 1,1-dichloro-1,2,2-trifluoroethane, please?" Nadrin dashed off to collect the items. That was all she ever did, collect things and hold things still. Occasionally she'd take readings, but she seemed to enjoy it. It was nice having an enthusiastic assistant - Jo got incredibly bored whilst the Doctor did his experiments. Or she'd set fire to them. The Doctor smiled to himself at the memory, before gently removing the bottle of chlorofluorocarbon from her hands before she sent it flying across the room. He set the bottle down, then began to shape the titanium plates.

Nadrin watched the Doctor, utterly clueless to what he was doing, but it looked very impressive. She loved science and how things worked - it was a shame she didn't have the education to understand it all. The Doctor was a very good and extremely patient teacher, though. Nadrin liked to think that one day she'd understand what all the chemicals in the cupboards were, what they were for, how they worked. But for now she was happy to be the Doctor's charming lab-assistant.

* * *

A few hours later, and they were finished. The Doctor proudly held up a sort of collar to the light, fashioned from the light titanium, but painted black. That had been Nadrin's idea, for some reason she'd wanted to paint it. It gave her something to do while the Doctor was mixing and setting up the refrigerants.

"Right then, Nadrin, next we need to source some carbon dioxide - where can we get that?"

"Err... thermal decomposition of Caesium Carbonate?"

The Doctor smiled at his protégé. "Almost - right group, though. Sodium Carbonate is more readily available, and produces more carbon dioxide per gram. Why is this?"

Nadrin bit her lip. "Err... Caesium has a higher molar mass, so is a heavier ion."

The Doctor nodded and patted her on the head. "We're getting somewhere! So, we want about 3 decimetres cubed of carbon dioxide, and at 1000kPa, so moles of carbon dioxide is equal to 3000 divided by 8.31 times 200... About 1.805mol. Sodium carbonate has a relative formula mass of 106, so that's 0.191kg we'll need." The Doctor noticed Nadrin pulling on his sleeve. "What?"

She smiled almost apologetically. "We need solid carbon dioxide, remember."

The Doctor sighed. "You let me go through the entirety of Boyle's gas law for nothing?"

Nadrin nodded and grinned. "It was interesting though."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "No it wasn't. You weren't even listening."

"Yes I was! Let's say for example, there we are, stuck somewhere, and we need to know the mass of gas-" She giggled. "Heh, rhymes."

The Doctor sighed in frustration. "So, CO2 has a density of 1.4g/cm3, so 42g. That's 0.101kg of Sodium Carbonate then. Go, little one, and fetch me sodium carbonate!"

She sniffed at the reference to her height, but did as she was bid regardless. She returned with a large white container bearing the requested chemical. She watched as the Doctor set up an industrial sized Bunsen burner - the megaburner, as he called it - and a flask, attached to a collection flask.

"Right, we'll have to leave that for a while to finish. We'd better go back to Mhror and Sarine." Nadrin took one last look at the decomposing carbonate, took a photograph, and ran through the TARDIS corridors after the Doctor.

* * *

Mhror and Sarine were not in the headquarters when the Doctor and Nadrin returned - the vehicle was missing also.

"They've probably gone to dispatch some more Peedohxydoodahs," Nadrin said, looking round furtively before making a beeline for the desk.

The Doctor tutted. "Preidoxhylorians. Come on Nadrin, it's not hard."

"Well they shouldn't have such a long and stupid name." Nadrin perched on the side of the desk and waited for the Doctor to join her.

He wandered over and sat on the desk beside. "Well, we have to wait for them to get back, not a lot we can do until then."

As if on cue, Mhror and Sarine glided serenely through the doorway and over to the desk.

"Five more Preidoxhylorians have been dispatched," Mhror informed them.

"We've almost finished the Temporal Radiation Diverter. Just need to produce the CO2."

Mhror nodded gratefully. "We thank you for your assistance in this matter."

The Doctor nodded back, but Nadrin replied for him. "S'okay. It's fun."

The Doctor smiled at her. "Come on, it should be done by now, we'll get back to it. When's the next negative rift spike due, Sarine?"

Sarine checked on a memory stick. "About half an hour."

* * *

The half an hour passed surprisingly quickly. The Doctor sat miserably in the vehicle as it charged out along the plain towards the predicted coordinates. He was about to mutter something to Nadrin, but the vehicle stopped suddenly and threw them forwards against the front seats. He flung the side door open quickly and jumped out gratefully. Nadrin giggled at him and jumped out also. Mhror and Sarine climbed out more sedately, along with Bu.

"Spike due imminently," Sarine called, and Bu stepped gingerly into position. The Doctor's device was strapped around the Preidoxhylorian's neck, like a sort of thick collar.

"Preidoxhylorian, should you be able to make contact with the extraerythraeans, you should explain the predicament of our world, and demand they cease the closing of the Space-time rift." Bu nodded, and with a bright flame of white light and a crackle of energy, Bu was gone.

* * *

**You may use the reviewing function to convey your delight or disappointment - please do so. Oh, and sorry about the chemistry jargon. I think I like it a bit too much.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hurrah, another chapter! Enjoy it and review it - I need the motivation to write.**

* * *

The two Erythraeans stood at the computer bank, watching as the red pulsating dot that was Bu vanished from existence, signalling his passage through to the other side of the Rift. The Doctor was standing behind them, taking little interest in what was happening. Nadrin, to no-one's surprise, was curled up under the desk again.

The Doctor scratched his chin thoughtfully. "What happens now?"

Mhror turned slowly to face him. "We wait for the Preidoxhylorian to attempt to return with information."

"Well, what do we do in the mean time?"

"We wait."

The Doctor sighed. "Well I'm not sitting idle. Life's too short - well, it is for Nadrin."

* * *

About an hour later, Nadrin was standing at the doorway of the TARDIS, taking photographs of the Erythraean city.

"Are there other cities, or just this one?" she asked, placing the camera back into her jacket pocket.

The Doctor shrugged. "No idea. Well, I'd guess only the one, seeing how Mhror and Sarine refer to it in the definite."

"That's a bit odd."

The Doctor smiled. "Not really, on Gallifrey there was only really the citadel."

Nadrin frowned. "I thought Gallifrey was a very advanced planet."

The Doctor buffeted her about the head. "Of course it was, I came from there. Still, advancement doesn't necessarily mean we populated the whole planet." He fell silent, and Nadrin slipped her arms around him comfortingly.

"Do you miss it?"

The Doctor nodded, and brushed something from his eye. "Of course I do. You've not had a home, you don't know what it's like losing it."

Nadrin squeezed him tighter. "I _do_ have a home – in the TARDIS with you. It's the only home I'll ever have."

The Doctor chucked sadly. "That can't be true, Nadrin. You'll grow up and leave me soon enough – like Susan did. You'll find some person, or a group of people, that you'll be happy with, and I'll carry on – find someone else, as I always do."

"When you first met me, you said you'd not have anyone on board the TARDIS with you ever again – why has that changed?" she asked, looking out over the plain to the city, lights beginning to extinguish as the night-time gloom surrendered to the light of the day, until the dark would grow strong enough to take back control.

"You changed me, Nadrin. You know that I only took you with me to save you from the Grixrans, because you would have died otherwise. But now, I couldn't be without someone around me. You keep me sane, running around after you gives me a sense of purpose."

Nadrin grinned and let go. "Well, seeing as you like running after me..." She deftly slipped her hand into his pocket and withdrew his sonic screwdriver. She waved it under his nose briefly, before charging out of the time machine and out onto the plain.

The Doctor frowned, confused. "What...? Wait, my screwdriver! Come back!"

He charged out onto the sand also, dust spraying up around his heels as he ran. His long strides were evenly matched to her pace – she was short, but very quick – and it wasn't until she tripped over her own feet and sprawled in the dust that he caught up with her. Giggling, she rolled over onto her front and clutched the screwdriver tightly to her chest.

"Mine now, get your own," she shouted, into the dust as the Doctor loomed over her.

He grinned widely and stretched his hands out towards her. "We'll see about that," he whispered, then began to tickle her mercilessly. She tried to resist, but couldn't help the giggles bursting from her mouth, rolling over as she got a mouthful of sand. She instinctively raised her hands to her mouth to unclog it, dropping the sonic screwdriver. The Doctor shouted triumphantly and picked it up, twirling it in his long fingers. He sighed happily, and lay down on the dust beside her, but sniffed in disgust suddenly.

"I think it's about time you had a bath, you stink!" He shut his eyes and a handful of dust flew towards his face. "Oi, that was uncalled for."

"Pfft, you criticised my balanced and stylish odour. That's unacceptable."

"What, Eau de Muck? You've still got that sulphurous mud from when we went to Fror stuck all over your jacket too." The Doctor attempted to wipe the offending stain off, but she dodged out of the way.

"Oi, gerroff. I'm not having a bath, it's all hot and I'll shrink even further and be like a lickle mouse and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

The Doctor closed his eyes and imagined her as a mouse. "Awww, how cute. It's more like rat though." She cuffed about the head. "Well, you _are_ going to have a bath, even if I have to do it myself. It'll be like washing a dog – just more violent."

Nadrin's dirt streaked brow creased into a frown. "What's a dog?"

The Doctor gaped. "You don't know what a dog is? They're amazing, they've got four legs, and wet, pointed snouts, and ears, and tails that wag when they're happy, and fur. When we next go to Earth, remind me to show you a dog – so long as we're not in the Orient. "

"Fine then."

"What, fine, show me a dog, or fine, I'll have a bath?"

"The dog."

"Well, both actually – either you have a bath or I'll leave you here."

Nadrin wrinkled her nose at him. "That's cruelty, that is."

The Doctor poked her in the chest. "And that's smelly, that is. Now go, small and stinky one."

* * *

The Doctor was stood at the TARDIS console, patiently repairing the chewed wiring, when he caught the sweet fragrances of lavender and jasmine in the air. He turned to see Nadrin standing in the doorway. The sweet smell she was giving off contrasted greatly with the disgruntled look on her face, half hidden by her damp, brown hair clinging to it.

"Where did you put the hairdryer?" she asked, voice tinged with menace.

The Doctor looked back to the TARDIS console, avoiding her vicious stare, and so that she couldn't see the grin playing about his features. "Err, I took it apart a few weeks ago. I needed the wiring." He staggered back a pace as a wet towel caught him about the face, but couldn't help chuckling as Nadrin stormed wetly down the corridor. She returned shortly with another towel, scrubbing furiously at her head to try and dry it. Despite not being completely dry, she'd dragged herself back into her clothes, and they clung wetly to her.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Well, you look like I found you in a bin somewhere, but you no longer smell like the bin, so that's an upside."

"You're never happy, are you?" she said, wandering over to look at his handiwork – it seemed to be even more of a state from where she was stood.

"Oh yes I am – there are many marvellous things that make me happy. Like jelly babies. And progressive rock. And saving the universe."

"What the hell is progressive rock?" Nadrin enquired, attempting to comb her hair flat with the comb she kept in her pocket – it usually stayed there.

"Music from 20th century Earth, interesting time signatures, variety of instruments, lots of tempo changes. The movement was led by bands like Genesis, Yes, King Crimson, Van der Graaf Generator – but those miserable humans didn't seem to realise the brilliance of it. After 1979, that was about it for prog."

Nadrin snorted. "Is that the rubbish you generally listen to when you're trying to fly the TARDIS, or fix it? Or cook."

"What do you mean, 'trying'? I'll have you know, I'm a first rate pilot, mechanic and chef. In fact, this TARDIS should have six pilots, but I'm so brilliant I can fly it all alone."

"The toaster doesn't need six people to operate it though."

The Doctor sniffed. "Is that supposed to prove anything? Anyway, it's better than that rubbish you listen to."

Nadrin frowned. "What rubbish? I only listen to the finest and most carefully selected music."

Despite her shout of protest, he dropped his hand into her pocket and withdrew her mp3 player. "I really wish I hadn't showed you these things," he said, turning it on and browsing her artists. "I give you access to every single song throughout space and time, and you go for 'Gorgoroth', 'Drudkh' and 'Mörk Gryning'. And 'Eloovitty'."

Nadrin sighed. "It's Eluveitie, fishface. Besides, they're amazing."

The Doctor shook his head. "This is _all_ from Earth. A whole universe out there, why just one planet?"

"What about Duj tIvoqtaH then?"

"Klingons don't actually exist – they're from a television show – from Earth. It's a human singing in Klingon."

"What? That's stupid." She snatched the mp3 player back and stuffed it back into her pocket. "Are we ever going to go back to the Temporal Division?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, of course. We're just taking some time out while we wait for Bu to return. We'll get back now, he's had plenty of time."

* * *

"Captain, we have an issue."

Mhror strode hastily over to where Sarine was seated in front of the computer. "State issue."

Sarine pointed at something on the screen. "We have 56 positive rift spike estimates in the next 36 hours. There are only 2 negative predictions."

Mhror nodded slowly, before a grey tinge crept onto his features, expressing his worry. "If each rift spike were to carry something through, we could be in serious trouble. We must send the remaining Preidoxhylorian volunteers."

Sarine nodded and tapped a command into the computer, summoning the Preidoxhylorians from where they were resting, preparing themselves. "They are to arrive shortly. The next negative rift spike is nearby, in approximately 37 minutes."

Mhror turned blue as he concentrated on the screen. "When is the other negative spike due?"

"In 9 hours and 23 minutes," Sarine replied.

The shade of blue deepened. "We need to send the Predoxhylorians as soon as possible – we have no time for the Doctor to prepare the collars."

Sarine nodded. "We shall have to move immediately."

* * *

Nadrin sauntered into the headquarters, and found herself alone. "Why are they always out when we get here?" she asked the Doctor, who arrived shortly after she did.

The Doctor sighed into the empty room. "Because that's the way fate decrees such things. We should be able to finish off the batch of TRV collars." Nadrin turned on her heel and skipped back out to the TARDIS, with the Doctor following more sedately.

Inside the TARDIS laboratory, the collection flask was now full of CO2 gas. Nadrin passed him a batch of 5 TRV collars, and the Doctor began to slowly feed the gas in. The weight increased steadily as the gas solidified inside the container. When it was full, Nadrin tutted at the weight of it, and placed it carefully onto the workbench. She passed the next one up to the Doctor, and began to fill that one also.

After a while, all of the collars were complete and ready for usage. The Doctor smiled down at his assistance, who nodded back at him. They picked up the collars and carried them through the TARDIS corridors, back towards the main headquarters. They stepped inside, and to their disappointment found Mhror and Sarine still missing.

"Well, they're taking their time. I wonder what they're up to..." The Doctor fell silent and deposited his share of the load onto the desk he spent most of his time working at. Nadrin grunted and did the same.

"I assume you two are the Doctor and Nadrin." They whirled around, surprised by the voice. They encountered another Erythraean, taller still than Mhror and Sarine, wearing a different uniform too – he was clearly of another rank or division of the Scientific Assessment League.

"My name is Noahxd, I am of the management level of the SAL. I am here to assist." The Doctor nodded curtly at him, and Nadrin have him a beaming smile.

"Hello, I'm Nadrin!"

He nodded back in acknowledgement. "Mhror and Sarine are sending more Preidoxhylorians through the rift."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "But we've only just finished the TRV collars!"

Noahxd made a sort of shrugging motion. "They said it was of the utmost importance."

The Doctor laughed hollowly. "Yeah right. You know when they're supposed to return."

"The hypothesis states an estimate of 1 minute 43 seconds, depending on complications," Noahxd replied.

"What's this hypothesis you keep talking about?" Nadrin asked, eyebrow raised quizzically.

Noahxd turned orange. "I have only mentioned the term 'hypothesis' on one occasion."

"She means you as a race, not you as an individual," the Doctor clarified.

Noahxd nodded, green with understanding. "The hypothesis is an expression, meaning 'I guess'."

Nadrin frowned. "Pah, expressions. They're silly."

"Err, why?" the Doctor asked, removing his hat and shaking the sand off.

"Well, only one culture will understand what you're saying."

The Doctor chuckled. "They sound pretty though. Russia has amazing ones – like 'to pull the spaghetti over one's ears', and 'when the crayfish whistles on the mountains'."

The orange shade playing about Noahxd's face deepened in hue. "Terms 'Russia', 'spaghetti', 'crayfish' and 'mountain' do not register."

Nadrin giggled. "Are you trying to fry his brains?"

The Doctor looked aghast. "Would I ever do such a thing?"

Nadrin's reply was lost as Mhror and Sarine glided into the room. They bowed slightly before Noahxd, before turning to the Doctor. "Are the TRV collars, completed, Doctor?" Mhror asked urgently. The Doctor nodded and pointed towards the five collars laid on the desk. Mhror nodded gratefully to him, but his next question was cut off as the Rift alarm rang out noisily.

"Positive rift spike, life form has passed through," Sarine stated, decoding the flashed message. She looked up at Mhror. "It could be the Preidoxhylorian."

Mhror nodded. "We can only hope so." Their quandary was answered when Bu marched into the room. He saluted each person in the room in turn, finishing with Mhror.

"Captain, the experiment was successful. I made contact with the extraerythraeans on the other side of the rift – they treated me with hostility and suspicion. The planet was of similar development to our own, though the organisation that apprehended me claimed to have no knowledge of rift closure – my instincts dispute these claims."

The colour of Mhror's aura was difficult to distinguish- it managed to be both orange and blue simultaneously, somehow. "What was the name of this organisation?"

"Torchwood."

* * *

**My longest chapter yet... but nothing actually happened. Delightful.**


	8. Chapter 8

**ARGH. Sorry for long time no update, but Flinch is doing ANOTHER ridiculous pointless challenge thing. But yeah, I aplogise with TEH MEGAR CHAPTAR. It's the longest I've ever written - and has a few weird bits, but I like it =D**

* * *

"Torchwood?" Nadrin asked. "So, what, Jack's doing this?"

Mhror turned green. "Term Torchwood registers – one previous use. The utiliser was Nadrin. You have prior knowledge of the offending organisation?"

Nadrin made as if to speak, but the Doctor butted in before she could. "Yes, but they're not offending. Jack - the leader of Torchwood - isn't stupid. He wouldn't do this – unless he's trying to stop a particularly disastrous former lover getting back in contact. Therefore, someone's influencing either the Torchwood team or their technology."

Nadrin frowned at the Doctor momentarily, but brightened up. "Does this mean we get to go back to Cardiff?"

The Doctor snorted incredulously. "You _want _to go to Cardiff?!" He sighed when Nadrin nodded eagerly. "Well, we've got no choice, I suppose."

Noahxd nodded to him. "Confirmed. We will send a large contingent of Preidoxhylorians through to the planet Cardiff."

The Doctor sighed. "Cardiff is a city on the planet Earth. But you're not sending more Preidoxhylorians through."

Noahxd's aura faded to a greenish tinge. "Why is this forbidden?"

The Doctor snorted. "It's unnecessary. We can sort it out, you don't need to send more – you'll cause mass panic, they'll be springing up all over the city – I dread to think what's been happening there."

Nadrin looked up in alarm. "Are they going to be alright?"

The Doctor nodded. "Of course. Well, Jack is. At least."

Sarine tapped her long fingers impatiently on the desk. "Should I call for the volunteers or not?"

The Doctor scowled. "No!"

"Overruled, call for 2000," Noahxd stated, and turned on his heel as if to leave, but Sarine's cough of surprise caused him to turn back to her. "Something wrong, Sarine?"

She coughed again, nervously this time. "We'd need 400 negative rift spikes for that number to be sent through, commissioner. We only have three predicted."

Noahxd shook his head. "Find a way." With that he turned and strode away, off to his temporary office somewhere else in the building. Sarine turned worriedly to Mhror.

"What do we do, Captain?"

Mhror tapped his fingers against his chest reflectively. "We could try joining them together somehow and seeing how many the rift would take."

The Doctor gave a sort of strangled giggle. "Don't be ridiculous."

Nadrin snorted at the Doctor's reaction. "Make the Perdolc- Make them smaller."

Sarine turned pink, expressing delight. "Of course, we use the compression cube!" Mhror nodded in agreement and went off to collect the aforementioned item.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "The what?"

Sarine nodded enthusiastically. "The compression cube. It came through the rift a few Erythrations a go, we can fit lots and lots of matter in there, it's only about 70cm by 70cm by 70cm. It compresses the matter so it can fit."

"What an Erythration?" Nadrin enquired, tugging on the Doctor's sleeve.

"One rotation of Erythrae about its sun," the Doctor muttered back in reply. "About 0.78 years. But compression fields are very, very dangerous for living organisms – have you tested it?"

Sarine nodded. "We have tested it on some Preidoxhylorian volunteers. No negative effects were experienced."

At this moment, Mhror arrived, pulling along a sort of flatbed trolley, bearing a silver cube. Totally flat edged and perfectly straight, it seemed utterly innocuous.

Nadrin frowned and wandered over to the object. "How do you open it?"

Mhror tapped the top gently, and the top opened slowly, swinging up on a hinge with no trace of noise. Nadrin bent over to peer inside, and the Doctor yelped in alarm. The noise caught in his throat as nothing happened. Nadrin turned to him quizzically.

"What?"

"Well, if that's a compression field I would have expected you to be sucked inside." The Doctor wandered over to have a look for himself, bending right over until his head disappeared into the box. He fished out his torch and waved it around inside. His head finally emerged, wreathed in a big smile.

"It's not a compression field at all – it's dimensionally transcendental!"

Nadrin grinned. "Like the TARDIS?"

The Doctor nodded emphatically. "Just like the TARDIS."

Sarine turned green. "Term 'dimensionally transcendental' does not register."

The Doctor gave a trademark inane grin. "It basically means it's bigger on the inside that the outside, just like my craft."

Mhror nodded. "What is the Preidoxhylorian capacity of the TARDIS?"

The Doctor frowned and growled. "Oh no you don't. I'm not even agreeing to this concept, let alone performing it. No Preidoxhylorians will be setting foot in my ship, thank you."

Mhror nodded slowly. "Accepted. Sarine, when are the next two Negative Rift Spikes due?"

There was a pause as Sarine checked her equipment. "46 and 267 minutes. Both situated near the Lunar Plain outpost."

Mhror tutted. "We shall have to use the vehicle, Doctor."

Nadrin giggled at the look of utter frustration that appeared on the Doctor's face, but stopped as the look was replaced with one of triumph. He grinned. "We'll take the TARDIS."

Mhror shook his head. "The commissioner has forbidden it. He says we cannot take the risk of you abandoning the operation."

The Doctor shook his head vehemently. "This is important, the whole of reality is at stake!"

Mhror just shrugged. The Doctor sighed in frustration, but looked up hopefully as Sarine raised her hand.

Mhror turned to her. "You have a suggestion?"

Sarine nodded. "The Doctor utilises his craft, but to ensure that he does not abandon the operation, Nadrin will travel through the Rift with us – we have one spare TRV."

Nadrin opened her mouth to protest, but the Doctor kicked her foot gently. "That's fine by me – Nadrin knows that she's safe with you." He clamped his hand over her mouth, but continued regardless. "Are all five of us going then? Who will look after the base?"

Mhror nodded slowly. "Confirmed. The base will not need looking after – the Erythraean public do not know of the base, nor the division, and it is very difficult to find anyway. If danger arises there are members of the Scientific Assessment League's high commission on standby."

The Doctor nodded, still keeping a tight grip on Nadrin to prevent her wriggling free. Mhror and Sarine were distracted from her struggles by the return of Noahxd.

"The Preidoxhylorian volunteers have arrived," he announced. "Have you come up with a method of passing them through the Rift?"

Sarine nodded. "We shall use the compres- Err, the dimensionally transcendental cube – however, our estimates show that the cube can only contain a maximum of 1,984 Preidoxhylorians – which leaves 16 spare."

The Doctor tutted. "You can't send 1984, Ianto might think you're sending some sort of subliminal message, and you're going to steal all their literature. Or want revenge on George Orwell."

Noahxd turned a vibrant shade of green. "Terms 'Ianto', 'literature', 'George' and 'Orwell' do not register."

Nadrin gave a brief muffled giggle, but soon went back to trying to gnaw through the Doctor's restraining hand. She gave him a sharp nip and he let go with a yelp of anguish.

"I'm not going through the Rift," she growled.

The Doctor gaped in mock horror. "Pfffft, you'll be fine. It was my good self that manufactured the technology after all."

Nadrin narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, exactly."

"Oi!" The Doctor frowned and cuffed her about the head. "Besides, we might need the TARDIS when we get there, and I can't get that through the Rift."

Nadrin wrinkled her nose. "Meh."

"Meh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Doesn't mean anything really. Just a noise of derision."

Mhror tapped his foot impatiently. "It is imperative that we be off now if we are to make it to the rift spike's coordinates in sufficient time."

Sarine nodded. "First we must convey orders to the Preidoxhylorian volunteers." The Doctor and Nadrin trotted off after her as they marched off down the corridor to the outside of the base – there was no room in the headquarters itself which could contain such a number of the Preidoxhylorian volunteers. Sarine tucked a small device into the inside of her cheek and whispered to the Doctor and Nadrin.

"Cover your ears, the volume may be too loud for your hearing mechanism to cope with." Nadrin opened her mouth to question the request, but the Doctor gave her a severe stare and she clamped her hands securely over her ears. Sarine flicked a small switch on the device in her mouth. The Doctor winced as the seemingly innocuous device amplified her voice until it could be heard by all the Preidoxhylorians stood before them.

"Volunteers, these are your orders. You will enter the Dimensionally Transcendental Cube, and once you feel an absence of movement you must remove yourself from the box. Form ranks, and stand to attention, awaiting orders. Should you be attacked you may defend yourself – do not help others. Statistically more people survive if they think only of themselves." Sarine stopped as the Doctor chuckled. "What?"

"Oh, nothing. Well, that last bit's a line from a Hawkwind song."

"Term 'Hawkwind' does not register."

"Oh never mind, carry on."

Sarine nodded and did as she was bid. "You will be transported to the city of Cardiff on the planet Earth. There you will meet aliens with an as of yet undescribed appearance – they will be immediately recognisable. Your orders are now complete." With that, Sarine reached into her mouth and removed the shiny black device and switched it off. The Doctor removed his hands from his ears, and Nadrin followed suit.

"Right, are we going to get going now?" he asked, looking pointedly at Sarine.

She nodded in response. "We will proceed to our vehicle, you must proceed to your craft."

The Doctor nodded and gave Nadrin a quick hug.

"Good luck – I'll see you in Cardiff."

Nadrin blinked back tears of worry and fear and waved as the Doctor jogged across the sand away from her.

* * *

The Doctor watched the vehicle speeding off into the distance, its cargo of three Erythraeans, one human (well, almost) and 1,984 Preidoxhylorians safely secured. He muttered something inaudible to himself and wandered inside the TARDIS. Making a few pre-flight checks, he wandered round the console, pulling on bits of loose wiring here and there. He half expected Nadrin to tell him off and demand they get a move on. The Doctor sighed wistfully – she'd only been gone five minutes and he missed her already. She gave him a sense of purpose – but then again, saving the universe was a pretty important purpose. He set his jaw determinedly and pulled the level before him down savagely – nothing happened. He kicked the console violently, and then faded into the space-time vortex.

* * *

Nadrin sat miserably in the back seat next to Sarine, playing with the hem of her jacket anxiously. The three Erythraeans sat silently, staring out into the distance – despite the distance being nothing but green cloud due to the dust. She started as Sarine turned and spoke to her.

"When we go through the Rift, we do not wish to arouse too much suspicion. We shall use the Visual Perception Confribulators to imitate your form – we need to calibrate them the image of the race of the planet Earth – we require a description from you."

"Well, I'm part human, so like me."

"Term 'human' does not register."

Nadrin sighed. "The dominant species on Earth."

Sarine nodded in recognition. "So we must assume your form."

Nadrin giggled, but disguised it with a cough. "Don't you think four of me wandering through a heavily populated city will rouse any suspicion?"

Sarine nodded. "Of course. However, three alien species would arouse greater suspicion."

"True... How do you do that then?"

Sarine held up a VPC. "You wear this, and I will operate the controls to calibrate them to your form."

Nadrin shrugged and took the three VPCs offered to her. She strapped them all up her forearm, and allowed Sarine's lithe fingers to operate the controls. She felt a small burst of what felt like static as each of the devices measured her shape. When the data collection was complete, Sarine indicated that Nadrin could remove the devices. She duly did so, handing them back over to the alien. Sarine passed two forward to Mhror and Noahxd, who strapped them to their wrists and switched the devices on. Nadrin tittered timidly as she was suddenly surrounded by three versions of herself. She frowned.

"Hmm, my hair's getting too long," she muttered and curled up to sleep, trying not to be too freaked out by her doppelgangers.

* * *

The vehicle was stationary when Nadrin reawoke. The Erythraeans – or rather herself – were missing. She yawned and stretched, hopping out of the vehicle in an accustomed manner. The three Erythraeans were grouped around one spot in particular, so Nadrin wandered towards them, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She passed herself one of the RTV collars and strapped it on – it was disappointingly heavy. She nodded gratefully at Sarine – for that is who it was – and pressed the switch on the bottom to activate it.

"When are we sending the, err, things, through?" she asked Sarine, who smiled at her.

"The Preidoxhylorians were sent through while you were asleep, we are due to pass through ourselves in 30 seconds."

Nadrin gulped. "We are?"

Sarine nodded, and took hold of her hand, gripping it tightly. "Whatever you do, you must not let go of me – it is also advised that you try and keep your eyes closed as much as possible – the hypothesis states that these are the most vulnerable part of your body."

Nadrin nodded, and shuddered fearfully. She whimpered in distress as a bright light crackled above her, swallowed her up and threw her tiny body into the temporal current.

* * *

Nadrin screamed as the Rift deposited her on the tarmac of a residential road somewhere in Cardiff. The afternoon sun shone brightly down, yet Nadrin still shivered from the cold – the Doctor had warned her about this, but after the pleasant warm of the Lunar Plain it took a bit of getting used to. She drew her jacket tighter around her slim frame and surveyed her surroundings. The road was a quiet area, but her scream must have attracted the attention of the locals – curtains were twitching. She straightened herself up hurriedly and unclipped the RTV collar – the Erythraeans had already done so.

"Okay, err, we need to find the Hub, but I don't know where we are. We'll have to ask for directions."

Gareth had had quite a day, and was rushing to get home to see his wife and their newborn son. He walked as fast as his legs would allow down the road, until he felt a light tug on the sleeve of his blazer. He stopped irritably and turned to the perpetrator. His irritation turned to bemusement as four identical (and very pretty) teenage girls stood before him. The foremost one – the one that had tugged him – spoke.

"Err, yeah, we're, err, tourists, that's it, tourists! We're looking for Torchwood."

"Term 'tourists' does not register."

"Shut up!"

Gareth nodded dumbfounded. "Um, near the bay somewhere." He turned away to keep walking, but the strange young girl grabbed hold of him again.

"Term 'bay' does not register."

"Shut up! Could you draw a map for us or something?"

"Term 'map' does not register."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP."

Gareth wiped an unsteady hand across his brow and produced a scrap of paper from his breast pocket. Drawing a hasty sketch of the area, he drew a line towards the bay and handed it back to the nearest girl, who smiled sweetly back at him. The group strode off in the direction he has indicated. Gareth changed direction and headed for the Coach and Horses.

* * *

The Doctor stood humming a Genesis tune to himself as the TARDIS flew through the time vortex. With a sudden jolt the TARDIS became stationery – the jolt was so violent that the Doctor was thrown to the floor in a heap. He jumped again in panic as a klaxon sounded, the drone making the Doctor's head ring.

"Time paradox... AND a time anomaly... What the heck is going on?!" He strode over to the screen, and jumped backwards in horror.

"The TARDIS is trying to land in the same place as itself... But, that means, I'm already there – I can't land there, I mustn't. But, what if it's a different me, what about Nadrin?"

The Doctor gulped audibly and adjusted the coordinates marginally, setting the TARDIS down beside itself.

He threw open the doors to be confronted by the silver, reflective side of the TARDIS. He yelped in horror at the sight of it and squeezed out of the narrow gap his landing had left. He stood a few paces back and stared at the horrendous apparition.

"WHAT THE HELL HAS HE DONE TO MY TARDIS?!"

The passersby on the Plass stared at him as he kicked it violently, before leaning over to stroke the blue wooden side of his TARDIS apologetically. He turned to them and doffed his homburg, before jamming it furiously over his hair and storming over to the fountain. He bounded onto the ledge with an ungainly leap, stamping angrily down on where he knew the invisible lift to be. He started as it began to descend down into the Hub.

Jack and the others stared up in surprise as the lift suddenly began to descend down into the Hub.

"What the..." muttered Jack, and the Ginger man with him shrugged, completely baffled. The stranger born by the lift huffed in annoyance, drew his cagoule closer about himself, straightening his maroon hiking trousers, and tucked into his dull green wellingtons. Greg yelped as the stranger lost his footing and plummeted into the pool at the base of the fountain – yet the man didn't seem duly concerned. He leapt up, water running off in rivulets, splashing back into the pool. He straightened himself up again as if nothing had happened and turned to the three Torchwood members watching him.

"Who parked their bloody TARDIS in my parking space?"

* * *

**REVIEW OR I'LL OMNOMNOM YOU.**

**Also, I've just read what Flinch wrote... ;_; But, you know, I could always keep the magic alive AND SCREW WITH HER TIMELINE MUAHAHA. I'll see what it says tomorrow (after I've hit it continuously)**


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter is about half as long as the last one - but I had two bullet points on my plan. Two. D=**

**Now then, the important bit. My characters are now of course on Flinch's side of the rift - therefore, she picks them up. However, I'm now introducing new characters into the story in my chapters - cookies to those who guess their identities from this. If you're not reading Flinch's side of the fic (which you really should be) there's a link on my profile, and you can pick it up from One Good Reason Chapter 9 - which is the name of the chapter, not the number of the chapter, it's something like Chapter 57. But yes, plz review. I'm not getting enough, and I'll stop writing if I don't get more. There's no point. I'm getting favourites, alerts, hits, but no reviews other that my one faithful friend (you know who you are =D). Once this fic is over, there may well be no more because I just won't have the motivation. One word reviews will do.**

* * *

Thankfully, Gareth's map was accurate. Nadrin and her doubles stood staring into the water of the bay, the Erythraeans seemingly overawed by the water.

"What is this substance?" Sarine asked, contorting Nadrin's face into a confused frown. It was odd to see – Nadrin was so used to seeing her express her feelings through colour that it took a while to read it.

"It's a mixture and water and salt."

"Terms 'water' and 'salt' do not register."

"Errr... Sodium chloride and dihydrogen monoxide."

Sarine nodded in understanding. "The conditions on Erythrae would not allow such a spectacle – dihydrogen monoxide is not sufficiently abundant, and the temperature is in general too high to allow it to remain the liquid phase."

Nadrin frowned. "It's no hotter in the Lunar Plains as it is in the Galapagos Islands, and they're surrounded by water. And have huuuuuge tortoises." She giggled. "They're amazing."

Sarine frowned deeper. "Terms 'Galapagos', 'Islands' and 'Tortoises' do not register."

"Pffft, we'll have to show you them – one we've stopped the universe killing itself." She looked around hesitantly. "I can't remember how to get in – but I think it was the tourist office – we'll go there."

Sarine opened her mouth again, but Mhror and Noahxd glared at her and she kept silent. They fell into step behind Nadrin, who was marching across the Plass to the aforementioned tourist office. She skipped up to the dirty, wooden door and pushed it open. The four Nadrins stepped inside, attracting some odd stares from the two pensioners sat on the bench nearby. Once inside, she strutted over to the slightly cluttered desk, peering at the beaded curtain covering the doorway. She hesitated, biting her lip, and turned to the Erythraeans with her.

"At least I think this is it. I'll try ringing the bell." She pressed her hand down hard on the small hand bell on the desk, and stood back to wait. She frowned as nothing happened, and slammed her fist down on the bell several times in succession. Eventually a man with floppy brown hair, bright blue eyes and a flustered expression charged through the beaded curtain. He ground to a halt as he saw the four young girls before him. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but nothing happened.

Nadrin smiled warmly and waved. "Hello, Greg!"

Greg's eyes widened. "What? Who are you? How do you know my name?"

Nadrin muttered an expletive under her breath, and gave Sarine a piercing glare before she'd even attempted to register the word. "Err, no I _don't _know you. We've never met. I just guessed your name was Greg, you look like a Greg."

Greg coughed quietly, unconvinced - unsurprisingly. "Okay, so, what do you want?"

"We're here to see Jack. That's if this is the right place. Is this Torchwood?"

Greg nodded nervously. "How do you know about Torchwood?"

"Err, I don't. Never heard of it. No wait, I _have_ heard of it, Bu told me about it. You know, the Preidoxhylorian that was here."

Greg's eyes widened further than Nadrin had thought possible. "Who are you – all of you?"

Sarine waved at him, imitating Nadrin. "We're tourists."

"Shut up, idiot. We've come from the planet Erythrae to tell you to stop closing the rift, because you're messing everything up. Though, the Doctor said it isn't Jack's fault. ...Not that I know who Jack is, I've never met him, you see."

Greg bit his lip, and looked at the four pretty young girls before him, all utterly identical. "I suppose I'd better take you to Jack – not sure it's a good idea, though. Maybe I'll let you see the Doctor first."

Nadrin nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, the Doctor, that's a good idea."

"You know the Doctor?"

"Yep, I travel with him. They don't, they're not even humans. Well, neither am I. Wait, maybe I shouldn't have said that... We _are_ humans actually. Hello, fellow human!"

Greg tapped the comms in his ear. "Jack, it's four young girls, and they're acting really weird. And they all look exactly the same."

He blinked, confused by Jack's response. "...Am I missing something? What's Anna got to do with it?"

He waited a bit longer for Jack to reply, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor. "Oh... Well, they don't look old enough for that."

Nadrin coughed in horror. "Oh dear God no."

Greg ignored her and continued his conversation with Jack. "Well, I suppose so. And they are very pretty... But she says she travels with the Doctor, won't he have something to say about it?"

"Greg, please stop. Jack is not getting his hands anywhere near me."

He ignored her. "Very. Well, very very. Cute. Like ducklings, just with better legs."

He tutted, then continued. "Obviously, they're not ducks. They're humans. Well, actually, they're not - one said they weren't, but then said they were, but I think she was lying the second time."

Greg paused as Jack spoke, ignoring Nadrin's furious glare. "That's just _wrong _Jack! And illegal." Nadrin's eyes widened in horror. "Anyway, what should I do with them?"

Greg nodded to himself and ended the conversation. "I've got to take you down to the Hub, Jack will talk to you."

Nadrin sighed in relief. "Well, good – just so long as I keep a safe distance."

* * *

From the outside, the Ysbigoglys Power Station looked perfectly innocuous. Two giant cooling towers, and a concrete control building. Yet, the less casual observer had noticed the lack of smoke or steam from the cooling towers, and the lack of personnel entering or leaving the building – just the same black SUV. Even that rarely left the premises.

Inside, there was just the one man. He sat at a large bank of computers – all of which showing diagrams and Rift readings. The room was lit only by the computers, meaning the room was dim, the light only illuminating the small area he occupied. In reality, the room was vast – the building was just one room. Cables ran all over the floor, to various machines. None of the machines were of Earth technology – not yet, anyway. All the blueprints had either been stolen or given to him by his partner. He didn't question where they were from – it didn't matter to him. All he wanted was to get that bloody institute closed down.

He had no idea what his partner wanted. It was of no interest. Nothing was of interest really. Tracking them had been his entire life, back in London, but Torchwood ruined that. He needed a new project, so when his partner approached him a few months back, it didn't take long to decide what to do.

Getting hold of the Torchwood SUV was a real bonus – those yobs from the estate had no idea what the technology was. They could barely understand how to use a toaster, but he now had access to the entirety of the Torchwood database – and much more. That's where he'd got the blueprints from. Picking out just which ones would suit his purpose had been difficult, but his partner was from the future – much like Jack himself – so that was easy to solve.

The Pièce de résistance, however, was the rift manipulator they had built. It was a massive structure, but slotted nicely into one of the cooling towers. It was slowly closing the rift, forcing the rift energy away from Earth. Away from Torchwood. They'd kept it closing slowly, reducing the chances of them noticing – obviously they'd notice eventually, not even Jack was that stupid.

The man adjusted his glasses on the end of his nose and ran a hand through his grey hair – his computer was showing that the Torchwood equipment was beginning to pick up on the rift closure. They'd be on to them soon. He sighed and picked up the phone.

"They're on to us."

The voice on the end of the phone responded straight away. "Wonder what took them, I've been getting bored out of my mind sitting here."

"You mean you wanted them to get onto us?"

"Well, maybe not you, but I certainly want Jack to get onto me. You can join in if you wish."

"We'll see. The rift is almost fully closed – it's at 78%. Another month and it'll be done."

"Not gonna happen. Torchwood will be all over your arse like a Fluirdine."

"A what?"

"A Liquid race. You should try it."

The old man sniffed and pushed his glasses back up his nose from where they'd slipped during their conversation. "I've got better things to do than sit here talking nonsense with you." He ended the phone call and smiled to himself. His partner was decidedly odd, but enjoyable to work with. He stood up and picked up his brown overcoat from the back of the chair, slipping into it. With one last look at his equipment he shuffled from the building, to the black SUV waiting outside. He stepped inside and swung the door closed. With a dull roar the engine flickered into life, and the car began to roll away from the power station and out on the road, heading into the centre of Cardiff.

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**What the hell happened to the formatting...? Mnerr, too tired to change it.**


	10. Chapter 10

**ZOMG. OMG OMG OMG. I'M SO SO SORREH, DON'T KILL ME!**

**Blame Flinch, it's all her fault.**

**Actually, it isn't. Anyone who's ever applied to go to university will know exactly why I've not updated for ages. Then I lost all my inspiration. BUT, Flinch and I have actually written - in a new style. NOTE, you ONE HUNDRED PERCENT need to read Flinch's chapter first. If you've not managed to find it (silly billy) PM me and I'll link you - although there IS a link on my profile.**

**It links directly. So yes, you do need to read Flinch's. **

**Alternatively, Welcome to my side from Flinch's side - I bet most of you were too closed-minded to read my side before. You made me cry. Hope you're happy.**

* * *

Twelve frowned. "He'd better be. You'll see what happens if he tries anything with Nadrin."

"So Nadrin's actually a girl?" Greg tried to keep his tone as conversational as possible.

Behind him, Thirteen's eyes widened. He'd obviously realised that this was the wrong thing to say, even if Greg hadn't.

Nadrin sauntered over to him and gave him her prettiest smile, fluttering her eyelashes. "Can't you tell?" She waited momentarily as Greg stumbled over his words, before giving him a resounded kick to the shin.

"Murder!" Greg yelled, grabbing hold of his leg with one hand and leaning the other against the workstation in an attempt to prevent himself toppling over. "There was no need for that!"

"He didn't mean like that," Jack told Nadrin, his expression as close to a bashful grin as it would probably ever get. "He's a little confused at the moment. Mainly because you're wearing a skirt."

Nadrin blinked. "But I always wear skirts, why is he confused? I mean, obviously not ALWAYS, I mean, when I'm in bed, or in the shower-"

"LET'S NOT GO THERE," Twelve bellowed. "We have important matters to discuss - like the closing of this damned rift."

"Greg doesn't usually like skirts." Jack shot his teammate a cheeky grin, but amended his expression upon catching sight of Twelve's. "Right. Yeah. Rift. Sorry, Doc."

Greg looked at him in confusion. "I thought he was the Doctor." He pointed toward Thirteen.

Completely ignoring Greg, Twelve rounded on Jack. "Call me Doc again, and I'll look you in a small room with Nadrin... On second thoughts, I won't. I'll just lock you up on your own, no matter who I put in with you, you'll still try to... Ahem, yes anyway. The rift. This is a fine what-to-do."

"Data suggests that the Torchwood Institute is the perpetrator of the issue," Noahxd stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes?" Jack asked, his smirk wider than ever. Clearly, he either wanted to prompt the Doctor in finishing his sentence, or drive him over the edge. Possibly both.

"Jack." Thirteen shot him a warning look. "Come on. The sooner we settle this, the sooner I can get away from myself."

Greg stared at him. "What?"

"Tea?" Ianto reappeared in the corner with a new tray. He looked slightly crestfallen upon realising that the previous mugs had yet to be touched.

"Give us answers, Torchwood," Noahxd demanded.

"We've tried." There was more of a snap in Jack's voice than he intended or would have liked. "We don't know what's causing the Rift closure. It's not us."

"It honestly isn't," Thirteen added, catching sight of Twelve's face. "Trust me, I've looked into it. Well. Browsed."

Twelve sneered. "You should've looked harder then. Don't you have any clues at all?" he asked, accepting a mug of tea from Ianto with a curteous nod.

Ianto grimaced. "I...took the liberty of searching the archives. The level of negative Rift spikes is unprecedented in Torchwood history." He paused. "In Torchwood Three history, that is."

Jack shot him a glance. Ianto didn't meet his eye.

Mhror nodded, turning orange to signify his understanding. "That corresponds to the abnormally high number of positive rift spikes in the lunar plain on Erythrae."

The Twelfth Doctor sighed. "We could have guessed all that - now how about something useful - any idea at all of the source? Anything even the slightest bit suspicious?"

"Nuclear power station," Greg suggested jokingly.

Sarine nodded slowly. "Is there any particular Nuclear Power Station that attracts attention?" she asked, missing the joke.

Ianto thumbed through the documents next to the trays, sipping his own coffee as he did so. "Ysbigoglys Power Station," he read. "To be opened 17 January 2010." He picked up the document and handed it to Jack with barely a glance.

"Terms 'Ysbigogyls' and 'January' do not register."

Twelve frowned. "Err... forgive me limited knowledge of the beautiful languge, but doesn't 'Ysbigoglys' mean 'Spinach'?"

Nadrin giggled. "I thought you said you knew every word of every language?"

"Pfft, course I do... Well, nearly every word. Nearly every language. A few."

Ianto smirked up at him. "It does. Alli mo areithia Cymraeg?"

Twelve grinned. "Gwnei adnabod , Alla chyfieitha unrhyw balog i mewn 'm ben. Ai 'na s yn anad hychydig eiriau."

Greg broke into laughter behind the two of them. "You're a right pair, you two."

Jack was oblivious to this comment, fixated on the document. "We may have a problem." He showed the document to the Doctors, finger pointing to the bottom of the page.

Twelve frowned in confusion. "I don't see, what's the problem?"

Jack shot him a condescending glare. "Look again, Doc. Look where it's being built. On the same site as the Blaidd Drwyg Project."

The Doctor tutted. "That means he could be exploiting the - My dear Ianto, I think you've got it. Now, any idea who's running this show?"

"Absolutely none," Ianto replied, failing to keep a hint of smugness from his face. "It's not government funded, we know that."

"Do UNIT know anything?" Greg asked.

"Hey." Jack smirked across at him. "Leave the poor girl alone."

Greg held up his hands in mock defence. "It's purely a professional relationship."

"I've heard that one before," Thirteen muttered.

"I thought it was just Jack who did things like that?" Nadrin asked, bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet. "...Not that I know Jack does things like that."

Twelve couln't help grinning. "Nadrin, I said you can stop now. Besides, we need to get down to the Ysbigoglys Power Station."

"Pffft. What's so important about the Yglyboobies thing anyway?"

"I don't do things like that. Just so you know." Greg coughed into his hand.

Jack smirked. "Of course not. Not with women, anyway. Most of the time."

"If we could steer the conversation away from my sex life, Jack? Thanks." Greg shot him a nasty glare and headed towards the door.

Thirteen frowned. "Where's he off to?"

"Investigating. Heaven knows it's better than standing around here speculating."

Jack grimaced at the rest of their small crowd. "Basically, this power station? It's being built on the Rift, and I'm almost incredibly certain it's what's draining the energy. So, not good."

Ianto gently pushed him toward the cog door. Jack looked at him in confusion.

Ianto nodded towards Greg's angry, retreating figure. "Go with him."

* * *

The stolen SUV skidded to an abrupt halt. The driver frowned and blinked nervously as a warning bong emanated from the sat-nav on the dashboard – the replacement Torchwood SUV was nearby. Just two streets away, in fact. Tutting disappointedly at the clock, he made a swift three point turn in the empty street and headed back down towards the power station. So much for an early finish today – he couldn't just leave the equipment for those Torchwood bastards to find. He parked the SUV haphazardly in the concrete blankness that was the power station's grounds. There was nowhere to hide the vehicle from view – but he doubted it'd make any difference, anyway. What was inside was of far more interest to them.

The computer seat was still warm when he got back, guided by a small pocket torch. Taking his brown overcoat back off, he slung it over the back of the chair and sat down, sitting up straight. He tapped the power switch with his shoe, and the screens began to flicker back into life. The black loading screens of the foremost computers reflected his pale face, reflected again in his glasses. He adjusted his body continuously, trying to find the most imposing position for him. He tutted as the computer finished loading and the screen went blue, his reflection disappearing in a swirl of data.

The journey through Cardiff had been largely uneventful – Jack could tell Greg was full of questions, but they kept silent regardless. The imposing towers of the Ysbigoglys Power Station loomed high over them as the SUV pulled in through the smart gates – open, surprisingly enough. Greg's eyes widened in shock.

"Jack, that's a Torchwood SUV."

Jack applied the brakes sharply and the car ground to halt beside its twin. He jumped out of the vehicle, leaving the engine running, and strode over the vehicle he'd parked beside, Greg throwing the door open to follow.

"It's the car we lost – it was stolen on the estate where Ianto's sister lives. Didn't think we'd see that again." Jack paused for thought. "Which does mean that whoever got their hands on the SUV has also got their hands on the Torchwood database."

Greg sucked in air between his teeth. "That's not good, is it?"

Jack snorted. "Course not. But still, let's look for some life, shall we?"

Greg nodded, and looked around him. "It's a power station – should there not be people everywhere?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, but they're probably inside."

"So where are the cars then? They can't all get the train, surely?"

Jack bit his lip. "That's true. But we won't get any answers standing out here freezing our bollocks off." With that, he strode over to the main building, stepping into what he perceived to be the reception – only to find it empty, dark, and rather worse for wear.

He frowned. "What _is _going on here?! This place is supplying half the city, and there's not a soul around!"

Greg wandered tentatively over to a corridor, peering into the thick blackness beyond. "Jack, there's a light in here," he shouted back.

"Oi, you trying to alert everyone in South Wales?" Jack strode over hastily, but noiselessly – though, as Jack realised half way to Greg, stealth was sort of pointless now. He peered around the doorway cautiously, to see a vast dark room. The light was a dull blue, clearly produced by the luminous screens of a large bank of computers. There was a simple office chair in front of the screens, the chair and its occupant both silhouetted against the light. Greg squinted, trying to make out some features, but couldn't. The man in the chair remained silent.

Jack boldly stepped into the room. "Who are you, and what is this place?"

The man smiled to himself, hidden to both Jack and Greg, but continued to keep silent.

Jack continued forwards, outwardly confident. He strode tight up the man in the chair and leant forwards challengingly.

"Who are you, and what is this place."

Jack blinked as the room was suddenly illuminated – Greg had found a light switch, evidently – and turned back to the man.

"This is the Ysbigoglys Power Station – and you know who I am."

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